Lord Jesus,
Let me never stop believing in You—never, no matter what this world hurls at me, no matter how loud the voices of doubt, fear, or discouragement become.
Strengthen my faith today, right now, at this very moment. Some days, just waking up feels like a battlefield. But I choose You. Again and again, I choose to believe.
You have said in Your word in John 11:25-26:
Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life; the one who believes in Me will live, even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?”
Yes, Lord. I do believe. I believe, even when my prayers feel like they bounce off the ceiling.
I believe, even when I don’t feel You near. I believe, even when the results I hoped for don’t come through, or the door I was so sure You’d open stays stubbornly shut.
I know the enemy is relentless. He doesn’t come at me with flashing horns or thunder. He whispers quiet, familiar lies. Lies that sound like my own thoughts:
“You’re not good enough. You’ve messed up again. Why would God still want to hear from you?”
And yet, here You are—faithful, patient, never rushing me, never shaming me. You see, when I’m struggling just to believe that things will ever change.
You see, when I smile on the outside, I silently crumble within. You know every crack in my confidence. And You don’t turn away. You step in.
There is no situation bigger than You. No bill unpaid, no diagnosis, no broken relationship, no sleepless night, no sudden loss—not even death itself—is beyond Your authority.
You are resurrection. You are life. That means dead hope can breathe again. Forgotten dreams can stir. A heart heavy with sorrow can still be lifted.
Lord, sometimes I fall for the enemy’s tricks. I scroll through social media and feel small. I compare, I worry, I lose sight of who You’ve made me to be.
I let the busyness of life drown out the still, small voice that’s always calling me back. But even then—you catch me.
You don’t shame me for stumbling. You steady me. You hold me by the hand and whisper, “Let’s try again.”
You have this way of transforming disaster into testimony, grief into growth, and silence into sacred space. Even in my tears, You are working. Even in my frustration, You are forming something beautiful.
So I ask again—pour Your grace on me today. Let Your promises echo louder than my doubts.
Let my heart be like Peter’s, who dared to step onto the waves because his eyes were fixed on You.
And even when I start sinking, remind me You are there, hand outstretched, ready to lift me again.
Rather than sink into anxiety about things I can’t control—deadlines, phone calls, misunderstandings, delays—teach me to praise.
Teach me to worship You not just when things are going well but when I have to fight to believe. Let my life sing of trust, not panic.
Let me worship like someone who knows how the story ends.
Today, I choose to thank You. Not just for what You might do, but for what You already are doing—behind the scenes, within my heart, around me in ways I don’t even see.
For everything I’m believing You for today—provision, peace, healing, clarity, direction—I thank You in advance. I trust that You’re working, even now.
In Your mighty name, I pray,
Amen.
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